The Aftermath
by bluegames
Summary: "It's you and me, babe. It's always going to be you and me." Effy/Freddie, subtle Effy/Cook.


"It's you and me, babe. It's always going to be you and me."

* * *

About two hours after she's released from the hospital, she's dragged back in, sobbing through screams that never ever stop.

* * *

It's day four, and she thinks she's dead.

She even tells the nurse the attending her this, quietly with all that makeup smeared around her eyes and the smell of smoke still stubbornly clinging to her skin.

"I'm dead, right?" she whispers and the nurse, an older woman with a shock of red hair, leans over to better tuck her in.

"No, honey," the nurse says. "You're Effy."  
She stares up at the ceiling, eyes lost to the world only she can see. The nurse takes her leave when she gets no response, and just as the door shuts, she hears this girl, clear as day, say; "Same thing."

And it is.

_It is._

* * *

She doesn't like her therapist.

No doubt why, and she curses John fucking T Foster for taking that away from her as well.

* * *

Thinking makes her head hurt, but she does it anyway. Desperately trying to figure out how _Freddie_ and _John Foster_ and _Cook_ and _baseball bat_ all fit together.

Days pass like this.

Nights pass with dreams she can't (_doesn't want to_) remember.

* * *

Cook comes, free of all charges (self defense, he says. as if.), and grins his wolf grin.  
"Hey, Eff," he says and she covers her head and screams.

_Go away go away go away go away go away GO AWAY_

When she looks up, he's gone, the wilting flowers he undoubtedly bought as cheap as he could find, sitting on her bedside table.

* * *

She misses Freddie.

It hurts knowing that his smile and his eyes and _him_ aren't in this world anymore.

_God damn it, why couldn't she have died when she was supposed to?_

* * *

People visit her, but she honestly doesn't give a fuck.

The nurse comes in and says, "Elizabeth, you've got someone here to see you." And then Emily or Katie or Naomi or Pandora or Thomas or JJ or Katie walk in, all cautious like she's going to attack them.

She wants to shriek when this happens, yell "_leave me alone"_ as loud as she possibly can, because, really, looking at them hurts. Every time, she's half-expecting that Freddie is going to peek over their shoulders, smile all big at her, and go chase away her monsters.

And every time that doesn't happen, she is forced to remember.

No one left to face the monsters but her.

* * *

Pandora is leaving, and although she said she wanted them to stop visiting her, she cries when Panda hugs her goodbye.

Of course, it's silent, but Panda has always been good at _seeing_ people, surprising for someone so oblivious.

"Gosh, Eff, don't be down. I'll call you loads, you know, no need to worry."

And with that, she sweeps out of her old world full of smokes and drugs and fucked-up people and into her new one, with Harvard and Thomas.

But it's all right, because Panda keeps her promise and calls her at least three times a week. It makes her happy, these phone calls. She gets to hear all about Pandora's new school and friends and she's glad for her, she really is.

And if Panda forgets to call her at all one week, that's fine.

And if she forgets to call two weeks in a row, whatever.

And if she _forgets her_, it's all right.

Fine.

(It's quite sad, actually, when she realizes the world goes on without her.)

* * *

They release her six months after her re-admission and to celebrate, her mom hangs a banner in the kitchen and her brother comes home.

The cake they made tastes like shit and no one can eat a bite.

It almost makes her smile.

* * *

She's much more fucked up than she lets on.

Parties make her feel better.

Pulsing music and drink after drink and random boys and dancing dancing dancing with her eyes close, arms up, hips swaying.

It's numbing, and numb is exactly what she needs right now.

* * *

She visits Freddie on a Tuesday.

His headstone is up and she snorts at the words on it:

_Loving son and brother__._

"Huh, Freds," she says. "Didn't know you were such a family guy."

She's done this a lot, talk to him, just small things like "_I saw a man today with striped tights on. It was quite unnerving."_ and _"Karen seems to be doing well."_

But never has she said…

"I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry and I know it's all my fault and, fuck, Freddie, I was okay before you and why can't I be okay after? Shit, this is coming out all wrong. I always fuck things up. I love you, okay?"

"Okay," comes a voice and she about jumps right out of her skin before she realizes, no, it's not Freddie's ghost, it's Cook.

He sits next to her on the damp ground. They're silent as she glares at nothing and he smokes, breathing in and out.

"That's probably the most I've ever heard you say," he says and she wants to punch him.

She just keeps glaring as he keeps smoking.  
After awhile, he offers her the vodka tucked under his arm and she grabs it, and although they sit there for the rest of the day, that's the extent of their interaction.

But it's a start.

* * *

"I hate it," she says.

"Me, too."

"I'm fucked up."

"Me, too."

"I'm forever going to hate myself for what happened."

"Me, too."

"I miss him."

"… Me, too."

"Okay then."

"Okay."

* * *

They're burning up the world, and it feels amazing.

She's loose and light and everything is a funny shade of pink.

Probably something to do with the pills she took earlier, but all that matters is that she's _Effy _fucking_ Stontem_ and he's _James_ fucking _Cook_ and the world_ knows_ them.

And maybe she's so happy because his hands on her feel like Freddie's, but she won't tell if you don't.

* * *

Late nights have always been her specialty, but she can stand another second of this club. She pushes through the crowd, searching for the idiot she came with.

"Cook!" she yells and he looks up from the girl he's practically mauling against the wall. She yanks at his arm, once, twice, before he untangles himself. The girl flips her off as she stumbles away.

"What, Eff?" he grumbles.

"I just… I…"

The lights are hurting her eyes, the world a swirl of color, and it's making her sick. Words get stuck in her throat and she grabs onto his arm to steady herself.  
He takes notice of her unfocusing expression and grasps her chin, forcing her to look at him, "Yeah?"

She breathes, in and out, in and out.

"I don't know how we got here."

He doesn't say anything, just tightens his arms around her and lets the pulsing bodies surrounding them sway them back and forth.

"I told you, Eff," he says and she can hear the tears in his voice. "It's always going to be just you and me."


End file.
